


Edge of Grace

by SorchaCahill



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Last Minute Confessions, Mutual Pining, there's feelings and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27530509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaCahill/pseuds/SorchaCahill
Summary: They've fought at each other's side for years and had grown to care for each other deeply but knew it could go nowhere. But is that accurate? On the precipice of the final battle we'll find out.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Sebastian Vael
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Edge of Grace

Smoke and ash and the stench of death filled the streets of Kirkwall. The city was burning yet again. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the burning had never stopped, maybe it had just lain dormant over the years. Regardless, it was worse than when the qunari had struck the city. In the three years since, the situation in Kirkwall had become even more dire, more desperate. Sebastian looked down at his hands, looked at the blood staining them. His heart screamed in pain over the loss of Elthina but he pushed forward. He had to. He had failed his family, failed Elthina; he couldn’t fail Hawke as well.

He looked up from his hands and looked across the small courtyard where they had gathered to regroup. The templars had pushed every advantage they had as their band of misanthropes and misfits advanced through the Gallows and the strain was showing. They couldn’t have been more different from one another if they had tried. A soldier, a liar, a thief, a runaway, a former slave, an abomination, an exile, and a refugee. They shouldn’t have worked, and at many times they hadn’t. If it hadn’t been for Éowyn Hawke none of them would have ever met, much less fought at each other’s side for nearly a decade. 

They hadn’t made it easy for her, not even himself he was forced to admit, but through sheer force of will and stubbornness she had kept them together where others would have cut their losses and run for the hills. He couldn’t decide if her life would have been better off or not if she had. Even as the thought ran through his head, he dismissed it. Through snark and kindness she had pushed each of them to be better, to want to be better. Other than Elthina, she was the only person to believe in him, and while their views on the Chantry differed, they had found common ground in their need to help others.

He’d been so surprised that day she came up to him in the Chantry, the bounty he’d put up on the board clutched in her hand, telling him that the people who had slaughtered his family were dead. He remembered how the sun had shown through the stained glass windows, picking out the golden strands of her hair, how her silver-grey eyes had measured him and had found something worthy in him. His lips quirked slightly at the memory of her awkward flirting, how her cheeks had flushed when she realized how her words could be interpreted. She’d made a hasty exit after that, but she had come back, sometimes in the company of her sister or mother if it was for services, other times with her companions on some mission or another.

_ I think I need to pray. A lot. _

And he had, but no matter how much he did, she was never far from his mind. But he’d made a commitment to Elthina and the Chantry and even though he had broken his vows, they were still a part of him.

_ Don’t think I’m not tempted, but… _

He’d come so close several times over the years to giving into that temptation. In his idle hours, he’d let his mind wander, thinking on what a life with Hawke, with Éowyn, would be like. Whatever it would be, it definitely wouldn’t be boring. But he’d stuffed those thoughts down. He couldn’t make promises to her without breaking his promises to another.

_ You’re allowed to grieve for your mother, Éowyn. No one would think less of you for it, least of all me. _

In the days after Leandra’s murder, Éowyn, and he’d thought of her more and more as Éowyn rather than Hawke, had shut in on herself, locking herself away. Gone were her easy smiles and quick remarks; she’d hardened herself, steeped in guilt over not being able to save her mother. They had all treaded lightly around her, not knowing how to deal with this new version of her. He could see that she was holding on by her fingernails and he wanted nothing more than to help her, but Kirkwall had other ideas. Not a week had passed before the Qunari rose up, leaving the city in ash and blood.

_ You stand on the edge of grace, Éowyn, please don’t fall. Please don’t leave. _

He’d whispered those words as she lay unconscious in his arms after she had dueled the Arishok, his face nearly buried in her bloody hair. He knew it was inappropriate but he couldn’t help himself. He cared too much. 

Loved her too much.

_ I would give you nothing less than a prince. _

Those words, more than others, haunted him. He remembered seeing the look in her eyes, the slight disappointment, the sadness, the words she’d said to him before turning away.

_ If you haven’t learned by now that I don’t give a damn about titles, then maybe you don’t know me at all. _

He watched her now as she talked quietly with Fenris, watched as they clasped forearms, their friendship and comradery clear for all to see. It was unworthy of him and unfair to Fenris that a tiny curl of jealousy flamed in his gut. She was so full of light, it was no wonder that people were drawn to her. He still thought it was a mistake for her not to vie for the viscount seat, but she had made it clear that Kirkwall was not her home. Would she take up King Alistair’s offer to return to Ferelden? Would she really leave the city she had fought so hard to save?

He honestly didn’t know. After all this, after everything that this city had taken from her, he really couldn’t blame her if she left. Kirkwall had given her grief at every turn. It was a marvel that she hadn’t buckled under the pressure, but then the woman was too damn stubborn to let it beat her down. Her resilience was one of the things he loved about her.

And he did love her; loved her with all his being, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

“Never thought I’d see the day when you would turn against those who serve the Chantry.”

Sebastian glanced to his left, watching Varric as he cleaned off something slimy from Bianca. They’d never really gotten along and Sebastian could never really figure out what the dwarf’s problem with him was. He doubted it was because he was, had been, a member of the Chantry as Varric was known to worship the Maker, in his way anyway. Was it because he was royalty? Varric had made it no secret that he didn’t think much of the dwarven nobles of Orzammar, but Sebastian wasn’t sure if that extended to the nobles on the surface. He’d called him boring on more than one occasion but that surely couldn’t be the reason behind his animosity towards him, could it?

“It’s clear that the Knight-Commander and her followers do not serve the Chantry, not in the way they should. Once she declared everyone who opposed her to be put to the sword she no longer stood in the Maker’s grace. No true ruler would take innocents’ lives, nor those who seek to protect them.”

“Is that what you plan on doing when you take back Starkhaven? Protect the innocent?”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Even now, on precipice of battle Varric insisted on poking at him. Usually Éowyn was there to make peace between them but she was now talking with Aveline and didn’t look to be exiting the conversation anytime soon.

“My cousin Goran was put on the throne by a woman who wanted power above all else and he’s done nothing to improve Starkhaven’s situation or keep its people safe. I do not want more bloodshed but if Starkhaven is to be free of his incompetence, I will see it done.”

“There’s no such thing as a bloodless coup. Someone always ends up bloody, just look around us,” Varric said as he dusted ash off his coat. “With Hawke at your side-.”

“She’s had enough blood and violence to last two lifetimes, I would not ask her to spill more.”

“She probably would if you asked. Hawke’s always gone the extra mile for those she cares about,” the dwarf grumbled. “Might want to keep that in mind.”

Before Sebastian could delve further, Éowyn approached them. He averted his eyes as she spoke with Varric, trying not to overhear but with only a few feet separating them it was hard not to. Varric was one of her oldest friends in Kirkwall and the dwarf had always had her back even when she made, in Sebastian’s opinion, some questionable choices. 

That was the thing with her though. She didn’t expect others to follow her blindly and always had a reason as to why she did something. And she expected the same in kind, which had caused more than one fracture with the people around her. Especially Anders. The mage had given her more than one headache for over the years, and each one even greater than the past. But none so greater than when he called her no true friend when she wouldn’t blindly follow his directive to help him. Knowing what they knew now… well, Sebastian knew that Éowyn would have never forgiven herself if she had played a part in Anders’ scheme to blow up the Chantry and murder all those inside.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that if you make a face long enough it’ll freeze that way?”

Shattered out of his inner musings, Sebastian looked up to see Éowyn’s silver-grey eyes staring back at him. She wore a slight smile on her face but it didn’t reach her eyes. No, those were filled with grief and a barely contained rage. 

“Sorry, I was just… thinking. Preparing for what is to come.”

“It’s only going to get worse from here. We’re lucky that we got this small respite to regroup.” She sighed, wiping her hand across her brow, smearing ash and blood across her skin. His fingers itched to wipe it away, to take the pain he saw in her eyes away.

“This madness will end soon. It has to. I can’t believe that the Maker would let his children continue to bring such destruction upon each other. The mages, the templars… all this chaos. So many lives have been lost to all this.”

Éowyn reached out, placing her hand on his shoulder. Sympathy filled her eyes as she spoke. “I’m sorry about the Grand Cleric. She and I did not see eye to eye on many things, but I know how much she meant to you. If I had known, if I had any idea of what…” Her words trailed off as she squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath to settle herself.

“You could have been in there,” she said quietly, her hand clenching into a fist as she stepped back, the banked rage in her eyes flaring. “Maker help me, but that thought makes me want to kill him all over again.”

“Éowyn, you can’t blame yourself for his actions. You did the best you could.”

“Did I? I’m not so sure about that.” She sighed again. “I used to think that I was a good judge of character, but now… now I just don’t know.”

He stepped forward at that, taking up her hand in his. Through the ash and blood her skin was warm against his. He felt a tingle rush up his spine at the contact and thoughts of what could be flashed through his head, but he stuffed them down. Now was not the time even if he hadn’t made promises to the Chantry.

“Listen to me, no one is infallible. You aren’t to blame.”

“Yeah, well, I blame me. I’m not very good at keeping those I love safe.” 

She looked up at him, her silver-grey eyes searching his. Searching, wanting for something she knew he couldn’t give. He ached to, wanted nothing more than to give it to her, but it was too late. The die had already been cast.

“You deserve so much more than what this world has given you. I’ve never known anyone like you; never known anyone with your strength and grace. I wish…” he trailed off, knowing that he couldn’t finish that sentence. “Nevermind. We’ve a battle ahead of us. We can’t afford distractions.”

She searched his eyes for another second and he watched as she shuttered her emotions behind the cloak she so often wore. His heart ached at the sight.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said as she slipped her hand out of his and pulled back. She started to turn away, but halted halfway, turning her head over her shoulder. 

“I wish too, Sebastian.”

He felt his heart crack, watching her walk away, knowing that this time he was the cause of the sadness behind her eyes. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself to focus on the coming battle.

“Maker’s breath, and you wonder why I find you so irritating.”

Sebastian glared at Varric. He was in no mood for the dwarf’s jabs.

“I’ve watched the two of you dance around each other for years, both of you too stubborn or scared to step over the edge. I don’t know why, but she loves you, you daft prick, and in case you didn’t realize it, Choir Boy, that was your moment.” Varric sighed as he tugged on his glove, shooting a glare of his own back at Sebastian. “We only get so many chances in this life to be happy, trust me, I know. You just let one walk away.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to protest, to state once again that he’d made promises to another, but they stuck in his throat. His life flashed before his eyes, seeing what his future held for him and he knew in that instant that even if he reclaimed Starkhaven, saved his people from the idiocy of Goran’s reign, it would be hollow without her by his side. He knew that even if he achieved his goals, there would be an empty hole where his heart should be.

What good were those promises when he had already broken them? When the intent behind them was hollow?

Varric was right. He was a fucking idiot.

“Éowyn, wait.”

His long legs quickly ate up the space between them. All of Kirkwall faded from existence as he focused on her. Confusion marred her brow as he approached; she clearly hadn’t expected him to follow after her. That thought struck at his heart, but his steps didn’t falter. The time for faltering was past.

“Is everything okay?”

“No.”

He cupped her face with both hands and did what he’d been tempted to do since almost the first moment he saw her. He kissed her. After only the briefest of pauses, he felt her hands clutch at his breastplate as she kissed him back. Her lips were soft under his and he swallowed her quiet gasp as he tasted her. She tasted faintly of the Fereldan wine he knew she favored. Underneath the smoke and blood he could smell the honeysuckle and berries, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt like he was home.

He pulled back, resting his forehead on hers, his breath slightly shaky. The timing of this was all wrong, or it should have been. 

“I’ve been a fool, Éowyn. A fool.”

“You are many things, Sebastian Vael, but a fool is not one of them,” she paused, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Why now? What changed?”

“Nothing changed, but I was made to realize that we only have so many chances for happiness in life, and to let one get away is to be the epitome of a fool.” He caressed the outer shell of her ear and felt her shudder under his touch. “I love you, Éowyn, I have for a long time.”

“What about your vows?”

“The only vow I have is one I would make to you, if you would have it. Have me.”

She stared at him, her eyes serious. Nerves twisted in his gut as he worried that he was too late, that he had taken too long to say something, when she reached up and brushed a lock of his hair off his forehead. Her fingers trailed down his cheek as she rose up on her toes slightly and kissed him softly. When she pulled back, the light was back in her eyes and her lips curved into a growing smile.

“You sure do have a way with words, Sebastian Vael, when you finally decide to use them.”

“Your timing stinks, Choir Boy. Now I owe Varric 10 gold,” Isabella shouted from across the courtyard.

“Never bet against the house, Rivaini!”

“You owe me, as well, Isabela,” Fenris chuckled.

Éowyn snickered while Sebastian sighed and barely held back an eye roll. Of course their companions had a bet going on about them. 

“Apparently they have a vested interest in the outcome. We’ll discuss your offer, but first we have a Knight-Commander and her horde to deal with.” 

She kissed him again, a little harder this time, with more heat, both of them slightly breathless when they pulled back.

“Oh, and in case it wasn’t obvious, I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> You know how in TV/movies that are rated PG-13 they are only allowed to say fuck once? It amuses me to no end that I wrote the fic equivalent and it's Sebastian who gets to say it. 😂
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and/or kudos are welcome and appreciated!


End file.
